InSight
by iUpelKuchen
Summary: Not everybody agreed with England's outlook on life, especially when he often stated that he could see things others could not, but what will happen when one of the things England often relied on becomes something he suddenly considers a curse?
1. Things are never as they seem

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape or form. If I did, then I'd give Canada more screentime.

**Warning**: May contain strong language, graphic scenes, teenage antics, etc.

**Pairing:** I'm going to be horrible and leave the pairings out for now. If this story picks up, which I hope it will, then I'll start thinking of adding in a bit of romance.

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**.:. Prologue .:.**

**Things aren't always as they seem**

_To the untrained eye, it would seem as if there was no end in sight. It was just a hollow, chilling darkness. But _he_ knew better than that. There was an end in sight, it was just the matter of fact that he couldn't move towards it. Whenever he tried to move, he could feel his gut sink lower and lower whenever he realized his chances of escaping the darkness were slim to none. _

_With every step he took, he could see it - no, _feel_ it - slowly move away from him, as if it was being repelled by him. All he wanted was to find his way out of this unfamiliar place. He wasn't frightened of the dark, if anything it helped him sort out his thoughts, but there was always that nagging at the back of his mind that he shouldn't stay here. _

_He had been here many times before, he knew he had, but he had no recollection of the sort. He felt unfamiliar with his surroundings, but he knew he had been here many times before. He knew he was dreaming, he had to be. His movements were sluggish, and his thoughts were all fuzzed up._

_Suddenly, he felt himself being pushed forward. He could feel the pressure being placed on his shoulder blades, pushing as though directing him toward his prime destination. The light. It was quickly becoming brighter and brighter, or was it just getting closer...?_

_He didn't try to fight with the force pushing him forward, he just let the force guide him to where it wanted to go. With each step, he could begin to make out a shadowed objects that lay on the ground. They were quite common things, really; he could clearly make out the outline of a fairly small sized teacup, placed perfectly still upon it's saucer, whilst a few meters away from that he could see what looked to be a bat. A few feet away from that stood an empty box, something rather small protruding from the small gap at the top._

_He got the distinct feeling that they should mean something to him, but he couldn't recall why. He knew he saw things like that on a regular basis, but since he was dreaming, shouldn't that symbolize something? He continued trying to get to grips with what they could mean, barely even noticing when his surroundings began to whirl and distort, almost to the point where it looked like static._

_Then, it all came crashing down on him._

_The force on his shoulders left him, and his thoughts were suddenly all the more clearer. A small, almost unnoticeable sensation in his head managed to distract him from the overwhelming nausea that suddenly overcame him. It was as though someone was messing with his insides, merely playing with them._

_With what he figured to be his arms, he gently curled them around his stomach in a protective manner and released his breath. When had he been holding it in the first place? The nausea was finally starting to leave after a few moments of him standing still, his eyes closed and facing his feet. His mind was reeling, and he felt slightly unsteady, but was successfully managing to stay upright against his better judgement. _

_"Maybe I should sit down..." That was what he was meant to say. However, when no sound managed to leave him, he began to get flustered. His throat had constricted against his will; whilst he could clearly breathe, he was having trouble with allowing words to come out. He tried to say something, anything, but he could hear nothing. He knew his vocal cords were still working due to how he could feel the own vibrations in his throat and chest, and that left him bewildered._

_Had he gone deaf? That seemed like the only plausible option, no matter how he regarded it. He couldn't hear a thing, not even his own breathing. That was when he began to feel something other than confusion; fear. Although he knew subconsciously that this wasn't real, that it was all a dream, he couldn't fight the emotion that was suddenly spreading inside of him. _

_It had been a while since he had felt himself so scared to such a degree._

_It's alright, he thought to himself, this isn't real. And it wasn't. He was purely dreaming and everything that happened here wouldn't affect him in the real world. At least, that's what he had initially thought._

_Eventually, he scoffed to himself. He shouldn't be acting like this. He knew he was being silly by panicking over something that he knew wouldn't really affect him. Eventually, his fear dissolved into irritation toward himself and he immediately disregarded his prior thoughts away. He was just being silly._

_He still couldn't hide the slight tremble in his hand when he moved it up to rub his eyes._

_The queasy feeling in his stomach managed to worm it's way back, much to his displeasure. With what he thought to be a small sigh, he begrudgingly opened his eyes to assess where he was. The slight spinning of black and white he had seen before he closed his eyes was gone, and all that was left in place was a white emptiness._

_As he silently regarded his change of surroundings, he could see the very few splodges of colour a few meters away. Not just black and white, but he could clearly make out that the object - or objects - had a much more brighter look to it. He almost contemplate walking away from it, knowing that it was probably nothing to be too excited about, but eventually found himself walking in that direction._

_Now only a few steps away from it, he now had a much clearer view of what the objects were. It was a strange array of objects, most of which he dismissed as having no meaning whatsoever, but he found he couldn't shift his eyes away._

_Standing only a few steps ahead of him were two silver swords, their blades halfway dug into what he could only guess as the floor. They looked like ordinary, finely crafted swords, however it was clear to the man that they had a few subtle differences._

_One of them had a fine leather covering the handle, making the grip all the more easier to the bearer, whilst the other had no grip whatsoever. The one on the left, the one with no grip, looked much more worn out compared to the other. It looked much older and worn out, and from what he could see the blade was very blunt. A few scratches were visible, even from where he was, and as he let his eyes trail back towards the base, he could make out the small engraving of a name._

_The one on the right looked much more taken care of. Even in a place as dull as this, he could clearly see that it was definitely well polished. There were no scratches, and he didn't need to touch the edges to know that it would more than likely be much sharper than the other. As he let his eyes drift towards the base, he confirmed that there also happened to be an engraving there. _

_Taking a few more steps closer, he was almost an arm's length apart, he knelt down onto one knee and leaned forwards slightly. His eyes narrowed as he read off 'Pride' from the much older looking sword on the left, then moved onto reading 'Fortune' from the one on the right. As he mentally mulled over the words in his head, he moved even closer to the blades and placed both hands onto the handles, almost as though he was getting ready to pull them out._

_There were no cracks in the ground to show that the swords had been forcefully pushed into it, but as soon as he started pulling on them, he distinctly heard a slight snapping. He was caught off-guard for a few moments, momentarily letting go of the swords, a confused expression taking over his features. He thought he had gone deaf._

_Suddenly more concerned over what had made the noise, he turned around with his back to the swords and shifted his eyes throughout the blankness he called his dream. He could see nothing, until he looked down towards his feet. _

_The stems of roses had managed to somehow tie his feet to the ground, thorns and all. He couldn't feel it, but he could clearly see the way the thorns would gnash deeper into his feet when he tried to move. When he tried to look for where they had come from, he heard the snapping again. Slightly worried over whether he was imagining things or if it was his own _bones_ snapping, he inspected himself once more, only to see that the rose stems had gradually managed to wrap around his legs up to his thighs, keeping him firmly in place._

_This was indeed a strange dream for him to be having. He wasn't frightened, but neither was he not bothered by it. It was almost as though every time he let his thoughts wander from the stems tying him they would get higher and higher. Another snapping, and he wasn't surprised to see the thorns digging into his chest and stomach. _

_Suddenly the queasy feel was back, and he felt as though he needed to move now more than ever. He kept his gaze trapped on the thorns that were around him, ignoring the slight tearing of his pyjamas as he tried to squirm his way out of them. He still had his arms free, but for how long, he did not know. _

_He used his hands to try and pry off the stems, but could only watch in mild shock as the thorns dug into his fingers, thus making the action unmanageable. He could see the tissue of his hands being torn every time he tried to rip the stems off, but soon found it to be for nothing. He let his hands fall back down to his sides, a small frown gracing his face. _

_With a small sigh he lifted his head up, and the first things he saw were the two swords, which he mentally broke down at. Weren't they just behind him? After blinking a few times, he confirmed that they were indeed the two swords he had seen a few seconds prior, but two tiny differences caught him off-guard. _

_The much older looking sword, which he had remembered being named 'Pride', had swapped sides with the other, 'Fortune'. But that wasn't the thing that shook him the most. From where 'Fortune's blade was placed in the ground, he saw that there were a few more stems protruding from the small indent in the ground, leading towards where the man was tied up._

_The queasy feeling got much more prominent and he felt as though he would be sick any given moment, but as soon as he heard another snapping he found it rather difficult to think clearly anymore. He couldn't move his arms nor his neck, and he came to the decision that the stems had moved further up his body again. It wasn't a nice feeling. He knew he was powerless and there was nothing he could do about it. He detested himself for letting things become so bad so quickly._

_He heard another snap, and before he knew it, he was back in the slightly familiar darkness he had grown accustomed to._

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**A/N:** Hey guys! lame beginning, I know, but I wanted to get something out of the way first; this dream is going to mean something in later chapters. If my way of describing things are a bit confusing or if it doesn't make any sense, please don't hesitate to tell me. I'm looking for **critical feedback **here, folks. This is going to be the first long-term story I've ever put out on the internet, so I'm hoping it will be at least slight pleasing. =w=

Does anybody catch the double meaning of the dream? Feel free to give your suggestions, but I won't be telling you if you're right or not. More funny for me that way. :D

Again, I'm not too sure on how people will react to this, but I will tell you things are going to pick up after a while, but then again, this is just the prologue, so of course there wasn't going to be anything special. That's for the next chapter. C8

If you've ever watched the move 'The Eye', then I'm sure you're going to be relating to this story as it continues. I watched it for the first time a few days ago on Netflix, and I loved it, even if it was difficult to grasp at first. No, it will not be entirely based on that movie, but I will be taking a few ideas from it to make this worthwhile.

See you in the first chapter! x3x


	2. Being Overshadowed

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape or form. I think that should be quite obvious.

**Warning**: May contain strong language, graphic scenes, teenage antics, etc.

**Pairing:** Again, no hint towards the pairings yet. _Long _time away until something squeal-like happens. ;)

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**Chapter 1: ****Being Overshadowed**

The hotel was moderately silent. The lobby, whilst still quite busy with new arrivals, was doused in quiet chatter as families checked in to be escorted to their assigned rooms. Even the restaurant was fairly silent, but be as it may, it wasn't even quarter to seven yet.

Many people were still sleeping, although England couldn't be put in the same category.

In fact, his room had to be the loudest one in the entire block.

With a thin duvet draped over his body, the blonde haired man was having trouble moving in his dream-like state. He was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and his rather prominent eyebrows were curved downwards to show his displeasure. His entire body was unmoving, however the veins in his neck and arms were enough to show just how tense he was.

He gritted his teeth in his sleep, no doubt wanting to wake from his seemingly distressful slumber, until a rather annoying laugh forced him to eventually open his eyes.

They were glossed over and red, showing just how much he resented ever going to sleep in the first place. Whilst he had had a late night, he still fell asleep at what he considered a reasonable time, but why did he feel so _heavy_?

Blinking his way back to reality, his eyes narrowed toward the thin curtains that were doing a bad job at covering the window. He usually detested having to sleep in hotel rooms, and luckily for him he had a rather appropriate room, even if it was slightly small. Even so, couldn't the curtains be exchanged for black out blinds? At least then someone wouldn't have to be faced with the option to get up.

As he mulled over the rather drab choice of curtains, he finally realized that the laughter was still taking place. With a silent groan and a small roll of his eyes, he reached out for his work mobile sitting on the bedside table whilst simultaneously rubbing the dust out of his eyes. With a flick of his thumb, he slid 'answer' bar across before even checking the caller - only one person had that ring tone (and the guts to ring him _so early_).

He brought the phone to his ear and grunted, his morning way of saying hello. He'd be damned if he was going to be at least moderately nice, especially after just waking up.

_"Hey, England! I didn't just wake you up, did I?"_

He resisted the temptation to moan into the receiver, _'Of course you did, you prat'_ and instead just settled for shaking his head. A few seconds went by without answer, and England had the decency to look embarrassed over his unintentional mistake, sitting up in his bed.

_"Eng-?"_

"Oh, no. You didn't. Don't worry." He tried his best to sound as if he were more awake, but even as he kicked his legs over the edge of the bed to set his feet onto the rough carpet, he couldn't hide the weak yawn at the end. A short laugh echoed through his ear, and he could almost imagine the other person smirking,

_"Sure, sure. Anyways, I was calling to ask what time the meeting was since I lost the slip we were given a few weeks ago."_

It was just like him, he thought. The boy had a tendency to lose things quite often, sometimes even claiming it as 'misplacing'. Really, he was responsible for being a nation and he could barely keep an eye on a simple piece of paper. England couldn't help but feel slightly exasperated,

"America, surely by now you'd know to keep things like that in places you can actually _see _them. And why are you calling me, anyway? There was an e-mail that was sent around explaining the details."

As much as a prude England sounded like, it was true. There had indeed been an e-mail that had been sent to the nations regarding the next world meeting, which just so happened to be today at 11:30am. Not the earliest time they had been told to assemble at, but nonetheless was it the latest. He could clearly remember one time they had been running so late that the meeting only lasted about half an hour. That was _record_ timing.

He heard the slightly eccentric boy hum to himself questionably, before he could hear the clicking what he thought to be a mouse. Just as England stood up to walk over to his still fully packed suitcase, he heard America let out a nervous chuckle.

_"Yeah, uh, sorry for asking-"_

England was momentarily distracted by a loud noise outside. It sounded extremely close to the noise of a car alarm, but it was quickly drowned out by a hard thumping. Instincts told the blonde that someone had just ran into a parked car, - as remarkably stupid as it sounded - but he quickly erased the thought. There were no cars on this side of the hotel, so it was slightly unsettling that a car alarm had just run out that close to his window.

"_But since you've been awake for a while, d'ya wanna get breakfast with me? There's a fast food restaurant in the middle of town if you wanna meet up?"_

But England didn't answer him. He still held the phone to his ear as he drew back the curtains, but was momentarily baffled by a shadow cast over him. As he tilted his head slightly down, he could clearly make out the shape of a human head, refined shoulders, two arms and two legs, all of which were constantly distorting in a slightly jumpy manner. He moved slightly to the right, and to his initial surprise, the shadow stayed where it was, managing to shake and jump in certain places that made it look like it was dancing.

With the phone still held against his ear, he gulped down a rather embarrassing noise that threatened to escape. The shadow was now cast over the floor and onto the bed, still moving in a way that looked most inhuman. It clearly had the shape of a man or a very muscular woman, but no matter the gender, England couldn't deny how utterly alarmed he was at the sight. He glanced back towards the window and confirmed that there was nobody there, but as he did so, he failed the notice the shadow move slightly to the right, once again standing over him.

_"England? You okay? What's happening?"_

And just like that, the shadow had disappeared. England stuttered for a response, trying his best to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He looked back down towards the floor and bed, and frowned uncertainly. That was a strange experience, even for him. Why did he feel so cold...?

"O-... of course. I'll, uh, see you at the m-meeting."

With that, he hung up, his fingers so numb that he had to hold his phone with two hands just to be sure he didn't drop it. There he was in all his glory, in a pair of his favourite silk pyjamas, stood in front of a full body-sized window with an expression of complete distress. He had paled considerably since he had first heard the noise, but now he looked ready to throw up.

And that he did.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach eventually brought his attention back to reality, and he quickly ran for the bathroom that was in the room next to his bed. He flipped the toilet seat up and proceeded to empty the contents of his dinner the previous night, shaking all the while. His throat burned, and once he was done, he raised a shaky hand to pull the handle and leaned against the tiled wall. The cooling tiles would have usually given him comfort, however he was feeling anything but that right now.

After a few minutes of doing nothing but staying sat against the bathroom wall, the green eyed man released a shaky sigh. His brows furrowed even further, until it was overshadowed by a scowl. He did it again. He got worked up over nothing. Surely the shadow wasn't real, it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him.

England snorted to himself. Imagine that, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland completely freaking out over a shadow, which wasn't even real. That would be something to laugh at, if he were to tell anyone.

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**A/N: **

How was it? First official chapter of 'InSight'. It isn't a lot, but the chapters will probably get longer as the story progresses. Right now, things are getting a bit stressful for our fellow Brit, and hopefully it _was_ just his imagination.

Feedback is always appreciated, and I'd just like to say a huge thank you for all the people who have already followed this story! It's so cool to know that there are a few people out there that can see me. Cx Hihi


	3. Are monsters real?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia, *insert witty remark here*.

**Warning**: May contain strong language, graphic scenes, teenage antics, etc.

**Pairing:** I have no idea, you have no idea. We'll both be surprised, probably.

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**Chapter 2: Are monsters real?**

After a quick shower and hastily getting dressed, the Brit wasted no time leaving his hotel room. After he had emptied his stomach, his shakiness hadn't subsided at all. He tried to reason with himself that it was just because he hadn't had a lot of sleep that night (which would be ironic, considering he was completely against that statement a few minutes ago).

He hurriedly left his room and slammed the door shut behind him. Knowing that he didn't have to go back until later on that day, he walked down the corridor in a much calmer, subdued manner. He would probably forget about it by the end of the day anyway, so there was no use fawning over it...

But even he couldn't deny just how frightened he had been.

What had that noise been? Arthur lifted his head and furrowed his brow in thought, ignoring the questioning looks some of the other customers as he walked by. He could clearly remember an alarm and then a thud, but just where had the noises came from? The view from his room wasn't anything to brag about; in fact, it was just facing a small layer of grass lined with a load of bushes. At least they took the time to plant a few flowers near the outside walls, even if they looked as though they were on the verge of shrivelling up.

With a small scowl, he shook his head and pushed his hands into his pockets, fiddling around with the keycard once again. He was being pathetic; whining on about shadows, and then _flowers_? What sort of ex-Empire _was_ he? Clearly the alarm was coming from a car near the parking lot on the other side of his block, so why couldn't he just let himself forget about it? The thudding could have been from anything, maybe someone from a nearby floor or room heard the alarm as well and fell over their own feet.

But that _didn't_ explain the shadow. Nobody was there, and he could clearly remember a rather distinctive shape of a body. He could remember seeing it contort in a way that looked like it was flinching, almost as though someone had been playing with the strings of a puppet. He wanted to think that it was his imagination, but he had the feeling that that wasn't the case. Of course, he had a certain special talent that allowed him to see strange, if marvellous things, but he had never seen _shadows_ before...

Another thing that unsettled him was how cold his main room was afterwards. As soon as he had taken his morning shower and had gotten dressed into his regular green dress military uniform, he had cautiously left the bathroom in a rather undignified manner and immediately felt the room drop a few degrees. At first he had thought that there was an opening somewhere, whether it was from his own window or a nearby vent, he didn't stay around to look.

Arthur mentally shook his head, momentarily forgetting where he was going. All he needed was something to keep him busy, to keep his thoughts from drifting to- exactly. Usually he dived into his actual paperwork when he found himself extremely irritated and bored. Either that, or he'd take a walk to calm himself down. Arthur's eyes widened slightly in realization; he didn't even _have_ his paperwork with him.

Being the usually organised person he was, he thought he'd be clever and drop off the papers a day _early_, meaning that they were already at the meeting place. Initially thought he could sit down at a nearby café or restaurant and look through everything he'd done, but seeing as how he had to be an organised twit, that thought was out the window. He didn't even know what the time was, but chances were that most of the shops wouldn't even be open yet.

Resisting the temptation to groan out in self loathing, he bit the inside of his cheek. He was no longer hungry, and he thought it would be best if he kept himself away from any sort of consumable substance just in case something bad happened. He had been to cafés on his own hundreds of times, but he knew that the smell of black coffee and caramel pastries would only make him feel like throwing up again, and _that_ wasn't something he wanted to do.

Weighing out the now unavailable option out in his head, he decided it would be best if he headed to the meeting hall early. There was bound to be someone there already; he wouldn't put it past some of the stricter nations to arrive a few hours earlier so they could sort through their speeches.

Looking up from where he was staring at his feet, he realized he had finally made it to the end of the main hallway and was standing completely still in front of the nearby fire exit door. No matter how long he had been standing there, he could see from where he was that a few people inside of the main reception area had taken an interest in him already. One woman in particular sent him a rather flirtatious wink, curling a strand of her brown hair around her finger.

Momentarily snapping out of his daze, he ignored the woman's advances, _completely_ forgetting that he was supposed to be a gentleman. Clearly the woman was from a Hispanic bloodline, with her tanned skin and chocolate brown eyes, but he didn't pay her any attention. In fact, he found himself wanting to get his stay in Denmark over and done with.

At least in England there weren't a bunch of _shadows_ attempting to _grind on you_.

He released a small sigh and rubbed at his temples. He _really_ needed a cup of tea.

* * *

As soon as he had dropped off the keycard at the front desk (after spending what felt like hours in a rather gangly queue), he very nearly managed to trip over the first set of steps that lead down to the car park. He wasn't sure if that woman was still giving him the eye, but he felt the need to leave as soon as possible.

He scanned his eyes over the parked cars and spotted just what he was looking for; it was one of the hotels own private cabs (or taxi's, depending on how you looked at it). Luckily for him, the driver could speak English rather well, so that made it less stressful on his part. Not that Arthur couldn't speak Danish, in fact he was rather fluent at it, but no matter how he looked at it he barely had enough energy to translate anything from his own language.

The driver looked as though he was in his late forties with wrinkles near his eyes and a full smile. Arthur subconsciously wondered how a man could be so happy. He quickly told the driver his destination (Copenhagen) and sat in the back of the cab, his nose scrunching up as the smell of fabric softener was making itself prominent.

As soon as he heard the engine being turned on, Arthur leaned his head back against the head rest and closed his eyes, his right leg crossed over his left leg so he was sat in a comfortable position. His arms were folded with his hands on his lap, and no matter how much he wanted to fiddle with something, he denied himself that satisfaction. He wasn't going to go around groping everything just because he wasn't feeling the best, that was more like a certain _frog_ he knew.

A few seconds after leaving the small hotel's premises, he heard what he genuinely thought to be the most annoying laughter in his life. What did the boy want now? With a quickly forming headache, Arthur's earlier trauma forgotten, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and reluctantly swiped the 'answer' bar.

_"ENGLAND!"_ He didn't even need to pull the phone to his ear to hear America's voice on the other end. _"What happened? You totally just hung up on me! You okay?! I've been trying to call you for ages!"_

At this, the Brit raised a curious, if slightly twitching, eyebrow. His phone had been with him the entire time (he left it on the sink whilst he was in the bathroom), and the only time he had received a call was when he had been woken up from that disturbingly dream. The green eyed blonde resisted the urge to cuss at the younger nation for being so loud and brash, but of course, that would be telling him to be someone _else_.

"It's bloody rude to not even greet someone at the beginning of a call, you twit. And either way, I haven't received any other messages or calls since earlier, so I have no bloody clue why none of those 'calls' have been getting through." He grit his teeth, the headache quickly heading into the direction of a migraine.

_"But _what happened_? You just started breathing really hard and stuttering and I thought that maybe-" _He was abruptly cut off by a exasperated, if slightly flattered, Brit.

"Nothing is the matter. I just thought I saw something peculiar, but I was mistaken. Turned out it was just my mind playing tricks on me," and that he dearly hoped so, "but if you could kindly refrain from questioning me about it, I would be grateful."

America, although slightly speechless at how genuine the Brit sounded, was still quite unsure. Arthur could practically hear the younger nation thinking on the other end of the line, and he wasn't sure if he should feel amused or worried. Once America set his mind to something, he wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted, and in this case, he wanted answers.

But even so, the American knew that he'd have a better shot at asking the ill-tempered Brit face to face, even if he ended up with a bloody nose afterwards. _"If you're sure, I guess..." _the American mumbled, clearly distressed by something. The Brit felt his frown ease up slightly, if only by a little.

But then it came back, until he was full-on scowling. _"'Cause, y'know, I'd have to be the hero and help you out either way, since you're old and all!" _Arthur mentally cursed the American for his stupid hero complex, pulling the phone away from his ear and glaring the ID image of his ex-colony.

The Brit merely mumbled a gruff, "I'll see you at the meeting," before hanging up, but not before hearing a rather annoying chorus of laughter from the other side of the call. He fought the need to throw the phone out the nearest window, and settled for tightening his grip on it ever so slightly. _Bloody yank..._

With an increasing headache, Arthur slipped the phone back into his pocket and leaned against the seat, closing his eyes just as he did before, but this time without any sort of distraction. Now all he wanted was some peace and quiet; he had already had enough of that obnoxious man for one day. Apparently, his angered thoughts were easy to tell by his expression and managed to draw out a laugh from the cab driver.

Arthur opened one of his eyes lazily, is only in curiosity, and stared at the back of the man's head. Even though he wasn't looking at his face directly, he could clearly hear the smile in the man's voice. "I remember what it was like when my little brother used to ring me just to pester me, too. You don't get along, no?" Although Arthur knew that it was none of the man's business, he couldn't help himself.

He closed his eye again and frowned, "He's simply intolerable. Going on and on about being a bloody hero..." Even though the Brit had mumbled those last words, the driver heard him clearly. The man laughed again, this time a bit more subdued than before.

"Ah, I thought so." The man drawled, nostalgia clear underlying his words. This time, Arthur opened both of his eyes and looked at the driver through the rear-view mirror.

And instantly felt his heart stop.

From where the Brit was sat in the back seat, he could see what looked to be a very, _very_ old looking... creature watching the road in front. It didn't look like a human, at all. His - _it_'s - forehead was covered in what looked to be like measles, all of which were looking incredibly red. It almost looked as though the forehead was covered in a rash, but the few splodges of slightly greying skin told him that they were indeed just measles.

With wide eyes, Arthur trailed down to the man's - no, _thing's_ - eyes, and instantly felt his stomach start to curl inwards. Instead of seeing two pairs of eyes, Arthur couldn't make out a single one. Where the eye sockets were, he could see tiny flakes of flesh caked together in a way that looked undeniably painful. It was as if his eyes had been forcibly gouged out and replaced by two handfuls of shredded skin mixed in with saw dust.

The Brit couldn't see the rest of the creature's face, and he found he couldn't be more thankful. It reminded him of all the times he had been forced to watch sinister movies with a few of the other nations years ago, and although they weren't at all scary at the time, he found he was utterly petrified.

Rooted to his spot, he could only stare with his mouth wide open from the back seat, utterly defenceless. Any other time, and he would have started yelling and kicking about, but he found that he could do nothing.

_This feeling... being **powerless**..._

_... I don't like it._

Luckily for him, just as he felt the car slow to a stop, he opened his eyes and frantically looked around. Why had they stopped? Did that thing manage to knock him out and take him somewhere? Slightly panting, he noticed that he was still in the back of the cab, he felt his muscles tense as he turned to look at the driver, preparing himself for whatever was going to attack him.

But instead of some crude looking monster, he could thankfully make out the distinct shape of a _human_ head through the mirror. The driver was checking that his air conditioning was still working, and after nodding affirmatively to himself, turned in his seat to grin at Arthur. He apparently didn't notice the way the Brit flinched when his teeth showed.

"That'll be 103.55 krone, venglist!" The man chirped, still taking no notice of how Arthur just kept staring at him, a slightly fearful look in his eyes. What had just happened? Did Arthur fall asleep and have a nightmare? But that should have been impossible! The car ride was only a few minutes! He had just been in Nykobing, there was no way he could have fallen asleep that quickly.

With a slightly shaky hand, Arthur reached for his other pocket and pulled out his finely made wallet. He had received it at Christmas, but from who, he didn't know. At the time he liked to think he had secret admirer, but seeing as he found it hard to get along with most of the countries, he dismissed it entirely. He pulled out two notes, both of which being enough to pay for the trip and told the driver to keep the change.

Not wanting to stick around for much longer, he practically pushed himself out of the vehicle without even saying thank you. It was then that he decided to get his breath back into his lungs.

A few people stopped and stared in surprise and curiosity as the blonde man continued to fill his lungs with air, eyes wide and skin pale. That had been _quite_ a traumatizing experience.

But what he failed to notice was that inside of the taxi, the driver looked back into the rear view mirror and let out a gasp. There, in the exact place the nice man had been sat in, was a strange looking tear on the head rest.

Right where the man's eyes would have been.

* * *

**A/N****: **I believe in Denmark their currency is slightly different from the currency here in England. So I'm only guessing, but I think 103.55 krone is about 11 pounds. I'm taking a leap of faith here, catch me if I fall.

So, second chapter. Anybody like it? Things are getting a bit stranger for poor England, and how do you think he'll be when surrounded by all of the other nations? Hopefully he doesn't end up making a fool of himself...

**Reviews:**

**alguien22792: **Haha, I'm sorry. I'm also home alone, and I actually do get scared quite a bit. I usually hear quite a lot of scratching, but then I have to remember that it's my cat wanting my attention. I'm glad you liked it. :D

**Translations:**

Venglist - Please


	4. Worrisome Realisations

**Disclaimer: **Guess what? I don't own Hetalia. But I _do_ own this fanfic. Surprise, surprise.

**Warning**: May contain strong language, graphic scenes, teenage antics, etc.

**Pairing:** I'm probably gonna end up asking you guys what you want the pairing to be, so be prepared.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Worrisome Realisations **

_Just what the bloody hell was that? _

Arthur knew he had a wild imagination (all geniuses did), but what had got him so unnerved was that the details looked much too real. With his hands on his knees, it looked as though the poor man had ran five blocks straight he was gasping so much. Many passer bys contemplated asking if he was alright and if he needed help, but soon thought against it once he lifted his head, thus making it clearer to see.

The Brit had no idea what came over him; he had just made a fool of himself over _another_ silly scenario his mind had conjured up! In front of a _normal _civilian, no less! What if that had happened in front of another nation? They probably would have taken his sleeping state for granted and try to overpower him... or something creative like that. He honestly wouldn't put it past some of them.

His stomach was still curling and twisting from the grotesque memory, just the thought of it made him want to collapse into a heap on the ground, but his pride kept him from doing that. He at least had some amount of dignity; he was probably going to find his way to the meeting hall and collapse there, where nobody would find him.

Mentally, he slapped himself silly. As if he was going to collapse; something as measly that wasn't going to overpower him, let alone keep him from doing his country's job. He had a role to fulfil, and fulfil it he would.

But he still couldn't summon the strength to start walking.

Now knowing that he looked oddly out of place in the bustling crowds of moving people, he forced himself to stand upright. His back cracked and much to his displeasure, he could feel that he was becoming ever so slightly light headed. If he could survive walking home from a pub late at night whilst intoxicated, he'd be able to manage walking to the meeting place whilst very, very dizzy.

With that last thought in his mind - it gave him a slight boost of confidence - he began his slightly longer-than-usual walk towards the National Meeting.

* * *

When he had claimed that he would collapse as soon as he found his destination, he was slightly shocked with himself to find out he wasn't joking.

The building itself looked like any other, if only just slightly more glamorous and noticeable than the other nearby buildings. It had two pillars on either side with small patterns engraved into the stone. The windows were large and almost too dark to see in, but the door was wide open. It even had its own little front garden decorated with small flowers, giving it a much more traditional vibe.

There was a small pathway lined with small stones that lead up to the door, which thankfully was only a few steps above normal ground. Usually the British gentleman wouldn't complain about something as average as steps, but he knew he was slowly losing the will to keep moving.

With great reluctance, he forced himself up the steps and straight through the entrance, silently thankful for whoever left them open. The inside of the reception was much nicer. The floor was surprisingly giving off a spectacular type of shine and Arthur could only guess that it had been polished earlier that day. The walls were a light cream colour, making it contrast well with the few paintings that were already hanging up. There were miniature tables (or stools, he couldn't tell and neither was he inclined to be bothered) in few corners topped with planted pots, various types of flowers sprouting from the soil.

The front desk was a nice shade of cherry wood, shining in certain places that proved that it had also been polished earlier that day. On the desk was a single computer, multiple files, a telephone and a cup filled with all the necessities a receptionist would need. Sat behind the computer was a woman dressed in a finely ironed grey suit, her hair pulled into a tight bun and lips that looked to be a little bit too bright. Arthur felt his mood deflate even further. She seemed to drain the colour out of the room, even with her moderately good makeup skills.

Seemingly being able to sense that she had a pair of eyes on her, she finally drew her own pair away from the screen in order to study the newcomer. From the flash of recognition on her face, Arthur knew that she had been expecting him. At least he didn't have to go through the whole process of explaining that he was a living country to some amateur receptionist like he usually did.

"Mr. England, is it?" Her voice snapped him out of his slightly irrelevant thinking. She had a voice that sounded just like a teacher; slightly chilling with a happy tone. Clearly she wasn't Danish, but the accent made him think of another certain Nordic he knew. Arthur nodded his head briefly, knowing he wouldn't be able to trust his voice. The dizziness had subsided after a while, so now all he was left with was a nauseating feeling in his stomach and shaking hands. He made sure to hide them in his pockets, just in case it would cause him any unwanted attention.

Suddenly, everything got disturbingly cold.

The receptionist eyed him for a few seconds, showing no signs of feeling the same chill he was. She was seemingly coming to grips with something in her head before she reached for one of the filed documents to her left. Her whole demeanour seemed to slip suddenly, and she began to slouch down, as though she was lounging around at her own home. With a small smile she motioned for him to come closer to the desk, and without thinking, he did just that.

Now with only a few feet of cherry wood separating them, he could see the woman a lot more clearer. She looked unbearably bored and even with the smile she was giving him, he could see the bitterness behind it. With a few simple movements, she had took hold of one of the documents and held it out in front of her, waiting for the blonde haired man to take it. "Your paperwork, _sir_."

Immediately caught off guard by the snarky tone she had suddenly gained, he found he couldn't bring himself to speak. With dull, delayed movements he reached for the files without taking his eyes off of the woman, starting to feel a familiar sensation at the pit of his stomach once again. Now he knew something was wrong.

Clearly the room had just been encased in a very extreme drop of temperature, but the woman was showing no signs of being affected by it at all. Were the doors still open? Holding the documents in both of his hands, the shaking somehow having subsided, he cocked his head to the side slightly. As soon as his eyes met with the outside world, he found himself wanting to look away.

He was right. Something was wrong. Whether it was with him or the actual planet, he didn't know, but he knew _something was wrong. _Barely a few seconds ago, it had been a sunny, almost unnaturally calm day, but all that he could see outside of the door was a darkening street. The sounds of people chattering had died down, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake. The people that had been walking about before were no longer there, having been completely swept off of the earth and showing no signs that they had even existed. The actual _street_ lined with all of the buildings looked practically the same, except for how rundown they seemed to be now, clearly having been abandoned for a long time.

Arthur's hands tightened on the plastic holding all of the papers together. What would happen if he were to turn his head back towards the desk...? Would that woman still be there, or would she have disappeared just like everyone else had seemed to?

Inwardly biting his cheek, he sucked in a breath through his nostrils and slowly turned his head. He wouldn't be able to take another jump scare, not after everything he had already gone through that day. He just _couldn't_.

Eyes still locked on the outside world, he reluctantly drew his gaze away and faced the direction of where the receptionist was. After a few seconds of staring into empty space, he allowed to release a pent up breath he had no idea he had been holding. The woman wasn't there, but neither was a wacky type monster, either.

"Wait..." he whispered to himself, realization creeping up onto his face, his pupils dilating in sudden panic. She wasn't there. She had _just_ been here a second ago, why wasn't she here? Did she somehow get teleported away from him like everyone else? He honestly didn't want to find out. His vision was beginning to get hazy, so he closed his eyes.

Just what on bloody earth was happening to Arthur Kirkland?

Almost dropping the files onto the ground, he began to take calming breaths. This was bloody stupid. What was he doing? Was he under some sort of spell? But who would have been able to cast that sort of magic, especially to such a high-class degree? And how did the caster manage to make all of this seem so _real_?

Without thinking, he turned his fully towards the only exit and entrance on the ground floor, but still not finding the courage to open his eyes. Mentally he was scoffing at himself, yelling things along the lines of 'coward' and 'you call yourself a country', but he just couldn't find the will to open his eyes. Everything was alright as long as he _didn't open his eyes._

But eventually, he did.

And he felt his heart stop for the second time that day.

* * *

**A/N: **Nearly 250 views in two days? I don't know if that's not a lot in your standards, but that's amazing in mine. Thank you to all of those who have taken the time to read 'InSight'!

I've actually been to Denmark; I spent most of my time in Nykobing, though. I was visiting a friend, and as soon as our plane landed from Gatwick, she took me into the main town of Copenhagen. At first I was tired because the flight had been at 6:00am and I had gotten up about 2:00am that morning, so I had only around an hour and a half's sleep. It was worth it, though. There are a lot of interesting places in Denmark. The food's bloody expensive though.

Anybody wanna guess what happened? :3

**Reviews:**

**Starfirecat58: **Things will be explained eventually, but for now I'm going to have to keep you in the dark. ;) I'd love to hear any guesses you might have. And don't worry, you finally got a new chapter! Hope you liked it.


	5. Helping Hands

**Disclaimer: **OHMYGOD I STILL do not own Hetalia.

**Warning**: May contain strong language, graphic scenes, teenage antics, etc.

**Pairing:** Kumajiro x England, with England being the uke. Nope. Nope. Still don't know.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Helping Hands**

_Nothing._

_Absolutely nothing._

In fact, Arthur found himself back in the position of facing the desk, the receptionist still seated and looking at him with a slightly concerned expression. Her brows had furrowed slightly, and her lips were parted as if she had paused halfway through saying something.

"-land, sir? Is everything alright?"

It took a few moments for the blonde haired country to adjust back into his surroundings, everything coming back to him in wave of confusion. What had just happened to him...? He blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing as though he couldn't find the words to say. Hadn't everything just went spooky a few seconds ago?

The woman looked even more concerned that he wasn't answering her. "Sir, are you alright?" her voice shook slightly towards the end, a sign that she really had no idea what had been happening to him, if anything at all. Arthur cleared his throat, his eyes still slightly dazed from that little _interaction_ he had just had. The British nation took a step back from the receptionists desk and let his eyes wander around the room in a guarded manner. With a turn of his head, he managed to see just past the front double doors into the wildly busy streets of Copenhagen.

He felt the blood drain from his face.

Before the sharp-looking lady could say anything else, Arthur managed to ground out a, "Have a good day," with his teeth clenched tightly, clearly not being able to believe everything that had just happened to him. He couldn't believe _anything_ was happening to him. Almost managing to bang his left hip on the desk as he walked away, he kept a firm grip on the files that were now being squished underneath his arms. Apparently he didn't care for crumpled paperwork, not after finding out something was _wrong with him._

Reaching one of the main hallways on the room's right side, he immediately turned and hoped that he would come across a restroom of sorts. His entire being was reacting badly to whatever it was that happened. His dizziness was back, the nausea was back and he felt as though he could vomit all over again.

_Get yourself together, Kirkland! _a tiny voice told him in his mind, egging him on and claiming that it wasn't anything worth worrying over. But the rest of him knew that it was a big deal, and that he wouldn't be able pull himself together fully when he had no idea what had just happened. He felt the entire room shift dramatically, and that receptionist's attitude to him? Quite clearly, Arthur was undergoing a spell of some sort.

Quickly glancing over the closed doors, he caught sight of a male symbol on the far end of the corridor, and wasted no time in walking over there. If he had been stable enough, he would have simply ran, but he couldn't risk getting an injury as well as a crazed mind.

At that thought, he physically slapped himself. He wasn't crazy! Someone just had some sort of grudge against him, but why, he didn't know. There were only a few people he knew that could use magic, and if so, to such a frightening degree. He was fine; he was just trapped in the middle of a spell.

With that thought in mind, he raised a slightly trembling hand to push open the restroom's main door. The smell of bleach and soap caught was the first thing he noticed, the other was that he was alone. With a much too bothered mind, he didn't pay attention to that fact and headed over towards the sinks at the far end. The smell was practically overpowering him, subsequently making him feel all the more dizzy.

Faltering on the last step, he placed both of his hands on either side of one of the bowls, waiting for a few moments so he could catch his breath. He had his eyes closed tightly. "Nothing's wrong... nothing's wrong..." he was mumbling to himself repeatedly, trying in his best effort to reassure himself. What was even going on? Was he seeing things? But he could already see his magical friends.

Wherever they were right now though, he had no idea.

A sharp pinch at the back of Arthur's head reminded him that he had been overcome with a headache. He winced and sucked in a breath, holding out his right hand to push down onto the tap's lever, watching as the water began to pour out. He gathered some of the pouring contents into his hands and immediately brought them back up to his face, seeking the cold comfort. His eyes were practically burning, and his legs suddenly began to feel like lead.

As he removed his hands from his face, he didn't waste any time opening his eyes. He stared across from him, at the mirror image of himself. He looked as white as a sheet, eyes red raw and his face was dripping from the water. He looked about ready to be sick, and looked as though he a few hours rest.

His subconscious was telling him that he couldn't possibly go to the meeting looking as he did now, and thus pressured him into taking a few minutes to regain his senses. The tap turned off and he was left in a room filled with silence, only him and his beating heart. He didn't even realise he was holding his breath.

The bathroom's temperature dropped mercilessly, and Arthur thought he heard himself biting back a whimper. Something was going to happen to him again, he just knew it. He didn't want to have to go through with this. Why did it have to be _him_? He couldn't tell anyone about it because they would just think he was even more crazy, which he was _not_! He had to be under a spell, it was the only efficient guess! But who would be able to conjure one up as dramatic as this...? Maybe it was one of his brothers; it would be a safe observation to say that they all hated him, but he hadn't spoken to any of them for years. He hadn't even spoken to his eldest sibling, and he was his own country now. Without meaning to do so, he closed his eyes.

Maybe it was Norway? Or Romania? They could have just been trying out a new spell and he just so happened to be the unwilling test subject. After a few seconds, he crossed that option out. They wouldn't do that to him, no matter if he was being a pain in the arse. He trusted them, and he liked to think that they trusted him, too.

A small gust of wind was all it took for the ex-empire nation to jump backward in sheer fright. As he tried to step back, he found that his back had collided into something short. He immediately froze up for the third time that day, and before he knew it, he was seeing black.

* * *

Feliciano was having a strange day. When he woke up, he had found himself blanket-less halfway through the night. He was moderately surprised and happy that he hadn't managed to catch a cold; his room was freezing! It was like a bucket of cold water and ice had been poured all over him, although it took him a few seconds to check that it hadn't been the case.

After being forced to get up extra early by his German friend, Ludwig Beilschmidt (who had been banging on his room door _way_ before he had woken up) he had found himself with nothing to do. His brother was in another hotel room on another floor; they weren't given a room to share or next to each other. His best guess was that Romano was still sleeping, or was with Spagna.

The next thing he knew, he was at the meeting hall with a bounce in his step. Well, technically it was just the reception, but they were probably the only ones there, seeing as the receptionist wasn't in her chair. With a slightly exasperated tone, Ludwig had told the Italian to, "Vait here." After seeing his head nodding repeatedly, the German walked into the hall on the left of the room, knowing that the staff office was past one of the doors.

Unfortunately for the blonde haired man, the Italian seemed to have other plans. The smaller male was too caught up in the scenery to notice that he had already left his post, taking his time with examining all of the paintings and decorations the building had to offer. With his usual nonchalant expression, Feliciano began walking in the opposite direction; the hall on the right side.

"So pretty..." he murmured to himself, slightly breathless after all of the walking he had done that morning. He was used to walking (and even running) long distances, but the hotel that Ludwig, Antonio, Lovino and he were staying at was practically in the middle of nowhere, miles away from Copenhagen. At least they were allowed to stop for breakfast at a nearby restaurant, so he found he couldn't complain.

Mouth slightly spread apart in a smile, Feli failed to notice the half-open door near the end of the hall until he heard voices talking. Suddenly interested in the hushed tones, the Italian managed to creep up beside the door and listen in. Whoever had been talking had stopped, and now all he could hear was ragged breathing. Anyone else would have gotten the wrong idea if they had come across the scene, but luckily for everyone, Feliciano wasn't anyone else.

He pushed the door open slightly wider than before so he could get a clear view inside. It looked to be the building's male bathroom, for the first thing he saw was the urinals. His gaze wandered around the finely cleaned flooring until he saw a pair of shoes- no, boots. After letting his eyes trail upwards, he saw the familiar blonde haired, bushy browed England he knew quite well.

Once the man pulled his hands away from his face, he began staring at himself in the mirror. It looked as though he needed a private moment, and just as Feliciano had realised that he had been snooping, England made a strange noise. It sounded almost pained.

Moving away from the small crack in the door, he pushed his head past the open space and tried to find any indication of what was wrong with him. He looked relatively normal, except his legs and arms were now shaking quite brutally. The man's shoulders were hunched together and he looked tense. Now concerned over the country's well-being (because he was Italy, he was allowed to be), he took a few steps inside, no longer trying to mask that he was there.

"Inghilterra...?" He asked lightly, his voice barely above a whisper. He saw England shiver, and one glance towards the mirror showed that England had his eyes closed. He tried again a bit louder, "Inghilterra?"

Even though they were now an arm's length apart, it didn't seem as though the blonde haired country could hear him. Feliciano knew it wasn't any of his business, and he knew he wasn't exactly friends with the Brit either, but now he was beginning to grow concerned. This was unusual behaviour, even for someone like him.

Instead of saying the country's name in his own native tongue, he reached out to try and grab the man's shoulder, letting out a squeak of surprise when he felt the larger body fall against him. Did England just _collapse_? The smaller Italian instinctively grabbed the elder man's shoulders and gently placed him onto the floor, figuring the floor would be clean enough. He had been whimpering the entire while, and once the Brit was fully laying on the ground, Feliciano left the room to find Ludwig.

"GERMANY!" A high pitched voice called out, a series of nervous 've, ve's following afterwards. The blue eyed nation momentarily stopped in his search for the receptionist (they still needed their papers and to be signed in), turning around so the his Italian friend saw he had his attention. Feliciano was at the other end of the room, waving his arms frantically about and yelling out gibberish.

"C'è qualcosa di sbagliato con l'Inghilterra! Ha appena cadde su di me! Si stava comportando davvero strano e ho cercato di aiutarlo , ma poi lui-" Germany had made his way across the reception in time to cover the Italian's mouth. He had heard a few recognizable words, but before he could ask for the Italian what was wrong, he was being pulled.

Feliciano had to use most of his strength just to take a step backwards. Once Ludwig's hand left his mouth, he grabbed it with his own and began dragging him towards the bathroom, his speech impediment making itself more known. The German decided not to question any further, but instead allowed the smaller nation to take him to wherever he needed to go.

As soon as the two were through the door to the bathroom, Feli pointed down towards England who was still in the exact same position he had left him in. Ludwig's brows raised in slight surprise; what had happened? Italy had went back to spilling out his nervous 've,ve's whilst standing behind the taller nation, not knowing what he should do. As the German inspected the Brit for any physical wounds, he was pleased to see that there weren't any he could see. He raised the back of his hand against the unconscious man's face, and didn't feel a fever forming either. In fact, he was ice cold.

Arthur's chest was visibly rising and falling, maybe a little too fast but not frighteningly so. He had no explanation for what could have happened to the Brit, but was more concerned over what would happen next. The man showed no signs of waking any time soon, so the best bet was to find a place where the United Kingdom could lay down and rest.

"Ve need to get him somevhere else to rest. Italy, I need you to get his feet." The smaller nation nodded shakily, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did what he was ordered. The German grabbed Arthur under the arms, whilst Feli took a hold of his ankles. They lifted him up and very slowly managed to leave the room, Ludwig directing the younger man so he wouldn't end up dropping him.

Unbeknownst to them, a slight scratch had been left in place from where the Brit's head had been.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello again. I hope you all enjoyed this one, I honestly wasn't so sure. I'm sorry if any of them are OOC, it's my first time writing both Germany and Italy interacting. I hope I don't suck too bad. C8

Criticising feedback is appreciated; I absolutely love reviews. They make me all happy and giddy inside.

**Reviews:**

**alguien22792: How **did you like it? Not what you was expecting, huh? And I thought about making it USUK, and there's a good chance that will be one of the main pairings, but I'd like for myself to explore the other characters first. Still a good chance of this being USUK, though. ^w^

**Guest Platinum: Haha**, I'm glad you think this is exciting. Here's another chapter. :D

**Translations****: (Used with Google Translate. I barely know any languages)**

C'è qualcosa di sbagliato con l'Inghilterra! - Something is wrong with England!

Ha appena cadde su di me! - He just fell on me!

Si stava comportando davvero strano e ho cercato di aiutarlo , ma poi lui- - He was acting really weird and I tried to help him but then he-


End file.
